


Believe in me (Because I believe in you)

by andthestorystarts



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Blind AU, Kid Fic, blind!jack, or at least start of it is a kid fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthestorystarts/pseuds/andthestorystarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up, Jamie had heard tales of everything. Santa, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, sandman, everything.<br/>But from around age six, he had a particular interest in the tales of Jack Frost.<br/>-Possibly because that year he had found him sitting on a tree stump in his back yard.</p><p>None of the stories had ever mentioned that he was blind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i laugh at people who think i'm a nice person

Growing up, Jamie had heard tales of everything. Santa, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, sandman, everything.  
But from around age six, he had a particular interest in the tales of Jack Frost.  
-Possibly because that year he had found him sitting on a tree stump in his back yard.

None of the stories had ever mentioned that he was blind.

At first he hadn't known who the person was, but as he got closer, his active imagination started ticking, and the puzzle piece clicked when he saw the frost blooming underneath the boys feet.

'Excuse me, mister,' (Always be polite, Jamie)

When he didn't get a reply, or even acknowledgement, he reached out to tug on his sleeve.  
'Mister, are you Jack Frost?'

The boy jolted, and as he turned towards Jamie, one of his hands came around, like he was searching for something.   
His hand brushed past Jamie's head, then slowly came back to rest on his hair.

'You- you can see me?'

Jamie blinked up at him, and noticed that the boys stare was slightly off, eyes coated over with a thin layer of white, though the blue was still easily made out underneath.

'Seems like a silly question, mister.' A small frown drew his eyebrows together, and he pouted. 'An' anyway, I asked you first!'

A small smile curled the corners of the boys mouth upwards.

'Yes, I suppose you did.'

Jamie waited a second or two before saying, 'You didn't answer. Mumma says you hafta answer when someone asks you something.'

'Your mother sounds like a smart person. Refresh my memory, what was the question?'

'Are you Jack Frost?'

The boy gently laid the tip of his finger on Jamie's nose, and there with it, was a nip of cold.  
'Use that mind of yours. You seem like a smart kid. What do you think?'

Jamie frowned again, scrunching his face up in the way that kids do when they’re thinking seriously about something.  
'I- I think you are. No other people can do that,' a point towards his feet.

'Do what?'

'Frost.' -said as if it explained everything.  
And in a way, it did.

  
A couple of days after that, Jamie finally got up the courage to ask,

'Hey Jack, wha’did you mean by "you can see me"?'  
He couldn't figure out what expression was crossing Jack's face then.

His hand came out and he ruffled Jamie's hair.  
'I'll tell you when you're older, little man.'

Jamie pouted at that. Why couldn't he tell him now?  
'Is it to do with your eyes?'

'What about them?'

'You can't see.'

Jack's expression was easy to pick out this time, even for Jamie. Sad, though with something else, like he'd gotten used to it.  
Smart as though he was, at this age, Jamie didn't know the meaning of the word _resignation._

'That's right. Though you can see me,' he waved a hand in front of his face, or more specifically, his eyes, 'I'll never be able to see you. One of the facts of life, I'm afraid.'

-

His parents found it a little odd, for a child like Jamie to be spending so much time by himself- even if it was outside.  
Once, when his mother came out to tell Jamie to come inside, because it was getting too cold and close to dinnertime, she found him sitting near the stump of the tree down the back of the yard, laughing and looking at what seemed to be the air above the stump.  
As she was leading him back inside, and Jamie turned and said goodbye, she asked him if he'd made a friend.  
Jamie replied with a big grin and his index finger to his lips, making a shushing noise, as if to tell her to keep quiet about it.  
'I met Jack Frost.'

  
-

At age six, it was cute, just thought that he had an overactive imaginaton.  
Seven, still allowable.  
Eight, and he was starting to get odd looks from practically anyone if he mentioned it.  
Nine, he learnt, through various means, not to speak about it.  
Ten, and his parents started these whispered discussions when they thought he wasn't around.  
Eleven, those whispered discussions turned into conversations with Jamie himself.  
At age twelve, at one point when they tried to politely tell him that his 'imaginary friend' wasn't there, and he bluntly came out and told them that Jack was very definitely there, they took him to see a psychiatrist.  
As twelve year olds are, Jamie asked his best friend to go with him, insisting he wasn't scared about it the entire time.  
The problem was, his best friend was the reason he was going in the first place.

-

The kind lady sat him down on a big, semi-comfortable couch that seemed rather scruffy around the armrests, as if people had taken to picking at the seams.  
After some polite small talk, she asked if 'Jack was in the room with them now.'  
Jamie's eyes flicked over her shoulder, where Jack was slowly walking round, (rather literally) getting a feel for the place.  
He nodded, and the lady's gaze never went off him.

'Can you tell me where he is now?'  
'He's over by the bookshelves. He likes running his fingers along the spines.'  
'Can you get him to come over and sit down?'  
He made a thoughtful noise. 'He's blind,' she scribbled something down at that, but Jamie continued, 'and doesn't know this room, so I gotta help him. Is that okay?' At the lady's(he had found out that her name was Miss Alice Whie) nod, he crossed the room, to where Jack was already heading slowly towards the source of his voice.  
'I'm not a cripple, you know.' Jack muttered, sounding a little grumpy.  
'In this case you are, so suck it up.'  
When Jack was sitting, Jamie beside him, Miss Whie, held a hand out, palm up, and asked Jamie if Jack could touch her hand.  
Jack shook his head, and Jamie translated for her.  
'He doesn't want to, he knows you'll go through him.'  
An eyebrow arch. 'Don't you mean he'll go through me?'  
Jamie copied Jack's movement from a moment ago, giving a head shake.  
'It's not like that to him.'

Eventually, near the halfway mark of their appointment, she ventured to ask 'Especially considering the fact that no-one else can see him, as I've been told, have you ever considered the possibility that he might not be real?'  
Jamie blinked, and his mouth opened, intending to say no, when he caught sight of Jack's expression.  
It was _torn_ , worried and scared, and the sight of it took Jamie a second or two to recover before shaking his head violently and replying,  
'I can touch him, I can talk with him. I can see him.' His line of sight went over to Jack, who's head was directed toward the ground. 'Just because other people can't, doesn't mean he's not there.'  
It might've not happened, but it looked to Jamie that the line of Jack's shoulders smoothed out, just a little bit, at that.

  
Jamie had to keep going to see Miss Alice Whie, but he never again asked Jack to come with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my head the place that jamie lives in in this is like permanently cold so he rarely has to go without jack
> 
> and i am so fucking sorry it took me like three months to post the second damn chapter i just  
> asfhdj  
> but hey  
> merry christmas lovelies <3

Even as he got older, as he got home from every appointment, he’d always look around for Jack, find Jack, and engulf him in a hug(surprising him sometimes if he hadn’t been paying attention, and knocking him over.) Accompanying these hugs were quiet, barely there comments like: ‘You’re real,’ ‘They’re wrong,’ and ‘You’re not an illusion, you’re not made up,’ and bury his face in Jack’s hoodie.

Sometimes these hugs would last for a brief second, other times they could go on for minutes- especially if it was a particularly hard session.

The hugs gave them both a brief respite from worry, although both of them knew that there would always be a next session.

Both of them tried to talk about it as little as possible.

 

When he hit thirteen, the meds started coming into play. They didn’t do anything, as he expected.

At age fifteen, his stubborn streak yielded a little, and he figured out that it was easier to lie, to say that he didn’t see Jack anymore, than to continue insisting that he was there and subsequently treated like he was a few cards short of a full deck. Probably because of this, he had to go to much less frequent sessions.

 

Sixteen, he stopped taking his meds at all, refused to, and his psychiatrist(Miss Whie, the same one from that very first time,) decided to make a house call. This had happened rarely, but had happened, and Jamie knew and made sure that Jack was nowhere in the vicinity when it happened, didn’t want him hearing anything that went on in the sessions- specifically and only him denying that Jack was there, that he believed in him. It hurt him to say so, but he had to if he didn’t want to be labeled completely loco.

 

This time, the session ran on for longer than either of them anticipated, and Jack came back earlier, when Miss Whie was still in the house, and they were still talking.

Jack lifted his foot where he knew the little ledge was, and with a little _‘hup’_ , got himself through the window and into the house.

He wandered through the rooms, one hand on the wall, though by this time he knew where everything was, more or less- unless someone(usually Jamie’s mother) moved something.

He ended up going towards the lounge, where he can make out voices, one unmistakably Jamie’s, and one that he remembers -too late- belonging to that psychiatrist.

Right then, Jamie’s voice comes along, and he stops cold, because Jamie’s saying,

‘No, I told you, I don’t see him anymore. He was a child’s game I kept up for too long, he doesn’t exist, I know this.’

 

 

\---

 

 

Soon after Miss Whie left, Jamie checked the house for Jack.

He didn’t seem to be in his usual place- Jamie’s room, and he quickly scoured the rest of the house, without finding him.

 

Eventually, about half an hour later, he checks his closet.

He finds Jack huddled down on the floor of it, behind the coats and in the corner, hunched, his sightless eyes staring blankly at the wall.

 

Jamie feels something twist inside his chest, and he crouches down on his heels, just looking at him for a few seconds.

Softly, quietly, afraid he might do something wrong, he simply says, ‘Jack?’

Jack doesn’t even turn to face him, he just visibly sags, like a gigantic load has been taken off of his shoulders, but was still haunting him, ready to drop back at any second.

 

One of Jack’s biggest fears- no, definitely his biggest, his worry that gnaws at him, that’s always at the back of his mind,

Is that if Jamie said it often enough, maybe he’d start believing it?

Maybe Jamie would stop believing in him, maybe the psychiatrist would convince him, what if he lost the only person who he cares about, the only person dear to him?

He’s scared, every time Jamie goes to those appointments, that he’ll lose him, that no-one would believe in him, not a single soul. Miss Whie threatens to take away the only thing he truly cares about, the only person who can touch him, see him, make him feel like he’s himself, that he’s there and alive and _real_.

He knows that Jamie believes in him, that its oh so very unlikely that Jamie will ever stop, but there’s still that chance, however small, that he will, that he’ll stop, that he’ll come back from an appointment, and can’t see him anymore- and that possibility scares the shit out of Jack.

 

From time to time, he wonders if it would be better for Jamie if he just left, if he wasn’t there anymore, let Jamie think that he _was_ just a childish dream, let him get on with his life without staying around, an invisible friend hanging around his neck.

But, always, Jack finds himself to be selfish, to want one good thing in his shitty existence, and he cant bring himself to let Jamie go.

And for both of them, that turns out to be the best option- because even if Jack had found it in him to leave, Jamie wouldn’t have moved on.

 

 

He doesn’t want to go outside, wants to stay in somewhere familiar, safeish, but also doesn’t want to see Jamie immediately, wants some time to.. god knows, brood, mull over things, just feels like being alone for a while.

So the cupboard it is, shuffled into the corner, the scared part of him continuously replaying what he’d overheard, what he full well _knew_ to be Jamie lying.

But every minute that ticked by, made him wonder, what he would do if Jamie one day believed what he’d said.

 

He heard his name, from Jamie, with the air of a question, and he deflated, some relief going through him that for now, at least, Jamie was still there, he was still real to someone, at least for a little while longer.

‘You heard, huh?’

He gave a nod, and he could feel Jamie coming into the cupboard, and shutting the door, back into the different shades of dark, but this time, he wasn’t alone, could feel Jamie’s arm pressing up against his own, solid.

Suddenly, Jamie’s warm hands threaded through Jack’s own, taking them away from where they’d been fiddling at the strings of his hoodie.

They both knew full well what scared Jack, and what a psychiatrist’s visit did to his head after some sessions, or just some bad days, so maybe that’s why, after a few seconds, Jamie spoke, reassuring, and wholeheartedly honest.

 

‘I’m not going to stop believing in you, Jack.’

There was a split moment of quiet, before he continued with two words that made his voice crack.

 

‘I can’t.’

 

He couldn’t, because if he did, it would mean the end for the both of them- different kinds, but ends, all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was basically a jack angst chapter i did not mean for that to happen  
> it will get happier this is just sort of a feels dump to try and explain jack's mindset sometimes cause come on he does have reasons to feel down in this fic  
> seriously this chapter was a bit heavy on the load there sorry about that  
> but its 12:30 am and im posting this shit so yeah


End file.
